


You're My Slow River

by servecobwebheadaches



Series: Heliocentric [6]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, anxiety attack, emotional h/c, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:50:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6255355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servecobwebheadaches/pseuds/servecobwebheadaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grocery stores give Brendon anxiety, and Ryan has to try to make sure he's okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're My Slow River

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for an anxiety attack, that's what this whole fic is about. It's fluffy ryden, though.

Grocery shopping was a thing that regularly had to happen when Panic! At The Disco was on tour. The bus had to be stocked with bottled water, band-aids, beer, and most importantly caffeine and sugar. The duty was dreaded by everyone, and they all took turns doing it—besides Brendon. Ryan was always sweet enough to do it for him when it got to be his turn.

Brendon hated stores. Whenever he was made to go grocery shopping, his anxiety flared up, and he would have to leave early so he didn't have an anxiety attack, or he would somehow push through it and breakdown in the car. It was just a miserable experience—how he felt rushed, and felt like he was doomed to fuck it all up. Completely overwhelmed.

Yet it had to be done, and the job fell on Brendon one day when Ryan wasn't around. They were on tour, and Brendon hadn’t been the one to go out shopping yet, so everyone voted on him. Somehow, Brendon convinced himself it wouldn't be that bad, that he could handle it. It would be fine.

He left the bus alone, with a fairly long list. He didn't want to have an anxiety attack, but told himself he could push through it. It would be worth it, after all, to have plenty of food on the bus again.

<<<<<>>>>>

Ryan went straight back to the bus, as instructed, when his interview for the radio station ended. The bus was way too quiet when he walked in, and he knew Brendon had to be gone.

“Where's Brendon?” He asked Spencer.

“He went grocery shopping for us,” Spencer said.

Ryan's instant reaction was to get mad, that they let Brendon go alone, when they could've just waited for him, but then he remembered nobody knew about Brendon's anxiety besides him. “Well,” Ryan said, “I guess I should go out and find him.”

Spencer didn't seem surprised, but rolled his eyes. It wasn't unusual for Ryan and Brendon to be following each other everywhere. “You do that. I'm sure he’ll die if he doesn't see you for an hour,” Spencer joked.

Ryan shrugged, indifferent to Spencer mocking him and Brendon. Spencer didn't know what Brendon went through.

Ryan left in a bit of a rush, wanting to find Brendon before his anxiety became too bad. Traffic seemed to be awful, he seemed to hit every light, and the parking lot of the grocery store was packed. Ryan felt like everything was taking way too long, everything was taking his time away from Brendon.

The store really wasn't that full, but it was large, and Ryan had to search for Brendon through every aisle. He worried more and more the longer he couldn't find him—looking for Brendon's hoodie, the tufts of his dark hair. It wasn't until he heard glass shattering, and an all too familiar voice utter the word, “Shit,” that he knew he was close to Brendon. Ryan followed the noise and finally caught sight of him.

There was a whole jar of tomato sauce broken in several pieces on the tile, the contents splattered across the floor. Brendon stood in front of it, looking sick with his face pale and lips parted. Ryan jogged over to him and touched his arm lightly, to which Brendon flinched. “Hey, hey, B,” Ryan breathed. With how close Ryan was, he could see Brendon's chest heaving through his shirt, quickly, hyperventilating. Brendon looked at him with wide eyes, terrified.

Brendon grasped onto Ryan's wrist weakly, hands shaking and clammy. “Ryan, I'm—” he started.

“I know, I know,” Ryan whispered, so Brendon didn't have to pant. “Go out to the car, okay? I'll be right there. I've got this for you.”

Brendon hesitated, looking off into the distance behind Ryan, then nodded. “Okay, thank you. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay, it's okay.”

Brendon dug his hands in his pockets and scurried out of the store, head down. Ryan felt bad for him, and wished he could do more to calm him down. A store employee came to clean up the mess, and Ryan apologized for, “being clumsy.” He paid for the sauce and strode out through the parking lot.

He found Brendon in the passenger seat of his car, Brendon's on the other side of the parking lot. There were tears streaming uncontrollably down Brendon's face, and he was shaking horribly. Ryan quietly closed the car door and sat down next to Brendon. “Hey, sh, sh, sweetheart, you're okay,” Ryan whispered.

Brendon shook his head. “No. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay, Brendon. You have nothing to apologize for. You didn't have to come do this. I would've done it for you.”

“It's so stupid,” Brendon said. “I should be able to just do this easily. It should be fine. But I just can't, I don't know, I just—” His breaths were coming too fast, and Ryan reached over to touch Brendon's hair. He knew that comforted him.

“You can't help it. It's alright.”

“I hate it, I hate how I can't do this, I hate how I can't get anything right. If I can't go fucking shopping, then how much of a mess am I with everything else? I'm a complete mess.”

“You haven't done anything wrong,” Ryan said, stroking Brendon's hair. He cupped Brendon's cheek. “You're perfect.”

“I feel so weak and like everything's out of my control, I don't know what to do.” Brendon folded his arms over his chest, not calmed down yet.

“Everything’s right here, B, you've got it.” Ryan held out one of his hands to Brendon, and Brendon took it in both of his. “Look at me.”

Brendon's focus centered on Ryan's eyes, and they just stared there for a few moments. “I'm so embarrassed,” Brendon exhaled.

“You don't need to be.”

“I feel like . . .”

“What is it?”

“I feel like I'm being watched and pressured whenever I go out. I feel like someone's gonna start yelling at me if I do something wrong, and it just makes me so stressed, I don't know. I just want to cry, and I can't breathe, and I can't think.”

“It's okay now, lover, you don't have to think about it.”

His breaths were still too fast, and his shoulders were tense. He choked on a sob, and looked down at Ryan's hand in his. “I'm sorry,” he said again.

“It's okay,” Ryan said softly. He leaned over the center console to kiss Brendon's forehead. Brendon intertwined his fingers with Ryan's, not saying another word. Ryan knew the worst of the anxiety attack had yet to come, that it would only get to its worst point when Brendon fell quiet and just cried. When that happened, Ryan could only try to do things that would overthrow Brendon's mind, but he didn't know if they worked. He thumbed over Brendon's hand and planted kisses on the top of Brendon's head.

Ryan tried to get his attention, so Brendon could focus on something else, see if it would help him find calmness again. Brendon didn't acknowledge it when Ryan said his name, keeping his head down and eyes trained on the ground. “I love you, I love you. I can't say it enough for you to know how much I mean it, but I love you so much,” Ryan said. He knew all of Brendon's insecurities, and Brendon had mentioned his relationship with Ryan was something he became afraid of when he was having an anxiety attack. He did everything he could to let Brendon know he would always be there for him, without wrapping both of his arms around Brendon and holding him tightly—he didn't want Brendon to feel confined, to make the suffocating feeling even worse.

After quite awhile of Ryan murmuring all his affection to Brendon, Brendon let out a long, shaky exhale, and squeezed Ryan's hand. Ryan squeezed back. “I think I got the crying out,” he said, voice still cracking.

“That's good.”

Brendon calmed down gradually, and Ryan let go of his hand to pet his hair. He played with the soft, dark strands between his fingers. “I love you,” Brendon said. “Thanks for being here.”

“Of course.”

Brendon's trembling stopped, and he just became exhausted, eyelids heavy. Ryan rubbed Brendon's back for a few moments, and then suggested they go back to the bus, where Brendon could sleep. “Will you come lay with me? I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep without you there,” Brendon confessed.

“Yeah. I don't want to leave you alone,” Ryan said. Brendon's lips curved upwards slightly, trying at a smile again. Ryan leaned in and aimed a kiss at those lips this time, and Brendon kissed back, slowly. Ryan cupped Brendon's face and felt the residue of tears, and tried to brush it away with his fingertips.

Ryan, really, wanted to do anything to make it so he never had to see Brendon cry again. He wanted to keep Brendon happy all the time, and he wanted to make Brendon's anxiety go away forever. But then, he would have to settle for being in love and peaceful after soothing Brendon—meaningful to both of them.


End file.
